


50 Failed Dates

by veramoray



Category: Little Witch Academia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, F/F, Modern AU, im kidding, rated T for These Hands, so many bad dates... like. so many
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:54:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26133802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veramoray/pseuds/veramoray
Summary: Diana suffers through a series of horrible dates, but hey, at least her waitress is cute.
Relationships: Diana Cavendish/Atsuko "Akko" Kagari
Comments: 17
Kudos: 270





	50 Failed Dates

**Author's Note:**

> Dianakko Week Day 4: AU
> 
> me? posting a two-year old draft for dianakko week in 2020? it's more likely than you think.
> 
> this may be old, but so am i. i hope you enjoy this little story of mine. hey what, that kinda rhymed! and... uh, so did that...

Diana storms into her study, shoving the heavy wooden door closed behind her—because she is a Cavendish after all, and a Cavendish is _never_ one to slam doors. Her long legs easily travel the length of the room and as Diana rounds her desk she sinks heavily into a tall leather chair.

As a Cavendish, Diana prides herself in her composure and patience. She rarely ever loses her temper. But lately, her aunt Daryl has been toeing the line... Rather surreptitiously she might add, at least until Diana had been made aware of it. Daryl probably means well in her own way, but she _must_ see that this is something Diana clearly doesn't want.

Diana sinks further into the chair, her eyes drawn upwards to the portrait of her mother and father that hangs above the barren hearth in her study. They stand closely, her father’s arm holding Bernadette near as they smile demurely at the artist who captures the memory in thick, careful strokes. In Bernadette's arms is a small child, barely older than a newborn, cradled against her breast.

Diana frowns, gazing into the lifelessness of her parents’ visage. How the portrait pales in comparison to the real thing, though she remembers more of her mother than her father for he had passed not long after the portrait was finished.

A weary sigh escapes her lips. _I wish you were here to guide me,_ she laments.

Daryl, the cause of Diana’s current strife, had recently taken it upon herself to ensure the security of the Cavendish name. She compiled a list of nobles that were well acquainted with the Cavendish family and prepared meetings with them under the guise of conducting business about their shares in Bernadette’s company. Well, it belongs to Diana now, but that’s beside the point.

As the representative of her family, Diana was to be the one to attend these meetings. However, unbeknownst to Diana, the connotations of the _appointments_ were certainly not of the professional kind.

It was to her surprise when, that evening, instead of a polished gentleman or gentlewoman—a young man with a dreadfully smarmy look about him sauntered into the establishment. She was even more surprised and agitated when at every corner he disregarded her attempts to steer the conversation back towards the business at hand in favor of inquiring about _her._

“I’m confused,” Diana had said, tapping the manila folder she’d placed on the tabletop. “Are we not here to discuss your shares?”

The man looked taken aback. “Shares? Why on earth would I want to talk about something so horribly boring when there’s a beautiful lady present?”

It was around then that Diana had realized… she’d been set up. By her own aunt and without her permission.

She politely apologized to the man, who was visibly upset when she stood to leave without even having received their drinks. Diana had called her driver out on the curb, and as soon as she made it home had an exhausting conversation with her aunt. Which leads to where she now sits defeated in the tall-backed armchair that once belonged to her father. If she concentrates hard enough, Diana can tell that the worn leather still clings to the scent of slightly old cigars.

Some days Diana feels like it is all she can do to cling to the memory of her mother... almost seeming to dissipate like smoke the moment she grabs hold of it. Her beautiful mother who always so softly spoken, never raising her voice in anger or frustration. It was always from a place of patience and understanding that she addressed Diana, or anyone for that matter.

What she would not give to feel the breath from her mother’s nose tickle the hairs on her head as she gave Diana _just one more_ goodnight kiss.

It is with deep sadness that Diana sags against the back of her chair, exhausted from the attempts of others at meddling in her life. She has no intentions of marrying this young, a man or otherwise. The fact that her aunt has taken it upon herself to force Diana into a courtship with people she doesn't know a bit about character-wise makes her blood _boil._

Their conversation had not ended smoothly. Instead of compromising, Daryl set up an array of dates for her. To decline them all would be social subterfuge. At least that’s what Daryl claimed, along with the fact that, if Diana were to go along with it, she would not sell her stake in the company. She even had the nerve to pull the deceased mother card, guilting an already grieved and hurting Diana into a flawed logic of who else there was to continue the Cavendish name.

It’s a ridiculous and childish bargain. But one Diana thought she had no choice but to accept. If her mother’s lifelong work was destroyed because of a petty argument, Diana would never forgive herself.

It is only her time that she is wasting... and it isn’t as if Daryl can force her to continue seeing any of them. She can turn them away at the end of the night and that will be all. Her aunt’s shares secured, the company afloat, and nothing to tarnish her reputation except the possible insinuation of a plethora of failed dates.

* * *

By the fourth or fifth outing Diana’s mindset has significantly changed. The whole night is going about as well as a duck on roller skates, and if she has to listen to another blind _twit_ go on about one more useless topic she might well lose her mind.

Diana shoots her waitress a thankful look as she refills her wine glass for the third time that evening. Akko—that was her name, she remembers, eyeing the gold nameplate pinned at the top of her black shirt.

Part of the deal they had decided upon was that Diana would continue to go on dates, but she would choose the venue. If she’s going to sit through night upon night of needless intellectual torture, at least she will be treated to a nice dinner in a respectable place. 

The order of operations is a classy Japanese restaurant nestled on a bustling street corner in Blytonbury, not too far from her home. So far, not a single one of the “dates” Diana has been on have been remarkably enjoyable. She supposes some of the men tend to be more polite than others, but bloody hell, none of them can hold a conversation.

Tonight's particular contestant is no different, faceless in the crowd, and Diana sips her wine slowly through the one-sided conversation.

* * *

Akko bounces over to one of her tables, asking the customers cheerily for their drink orders while they wait for the appetizer to be ready. In the middle of writing it down in bright green loopy letters, she notices over the top of her pad as Diana—one of her more frequent customers as of late—her face turns sour. A few moments later the man in front of her straightens and walks away stiffly.

 _Yikes,_ Akko thinks to herself as she relays the couple’s order back to them. That couldn’t have been good.

* * *

“Another one, huh?” Akko slides into the booth across from Diana, who looks up suddenly. “Sorry,” she says sheepishly. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, it’s alright, Akko” Diana sighs. “If you really wish to know... When I finally caught a moment to speak, he still continued to take every opportunity to interrupt with his opinion... Before I got a single word in otherwise.”

“Wow,” Akko whistles. “What a dickwad.”

Diana’s eyes widen, but she grins in amusement at the bold response. “Precisely, though perhaps not the term I would have used…” she says, lifting her drink for a sip.

“Oh?” Akko‘s expression turns mischievous. “What would _you_ have said, then?”

Diana pauses with the glass halfway to her wine-stained lips. “I would have called him a prat if his family was not so entwined with the fate of mine.”

Akko giggles. “What else did douche-wad say that made it such a no-go, if you don’t mind?”

Diana sighs. “Honestly, I’d be glad for someone to talk about it with… but I wouldn’t wish to concern you with such a petty matter. Also, aren’t you on the clock?”

“Oh no, I’m fully invested now,” Akko leans eagerly across the table. “And the restaurant is practically empty at this hour. You’re my last table for the night.”

Diana pinches her lips together to conceal her smile at how excited Akko seems for only a bit of petty drama from a stranger, no less. “Well, for starters,” she begins, feeling her frustration from earlier boil up beneath her skin. “He had the nerve to _mock_ me to my face for my choice in career. And then proceeded to explain to me why women are ‘too emotional’ to be in the medical field.”

“Yeesh,” Akko grimaces. “Sounds like a real charmer.”

“Not even close,” Diana groans, burying her face in her hands.

“Well... better luck next time, right?”

“I suppose...” Diana says doubtfully.

Akko drums the pads of her fingers nervously on the tabletop. “So, uh... Same time next week?”

Diana chuckles. “Next Tuesday, 5:30 sharp.”

Akko stands up from her seat, straightening her apron. “I’ll look forward to it, then!”

“I won’t…”

“That’s the spirit,” Akko giggles as she turns on her heel to make her way back to the kitchen.

* * *

“She’ll have the Miso Katsu,” Diana’s date interrupts with a cocky grin.

One look at Diana’s tense expression tells Akko that this is not anything close to what she had intended to order. The dish is also a lot larger in portion size than what Diana typically orders, and so she decides that just won’t do.

“...The suimono soup it is then,” Akko says, returning his scowl with a diplomatic smile. You can never go wrong with a soup, and she knows this is one of their best. She meets Diana’s eyes as she scribbles down the order, winking subtly.

Diana looks surprised, but her lips pull into a small but satisfied smile as the man visibly bristles. 

As far as looks go he isn’t too bad, with warm copper skin and a ruggedly handsome physique. Which is something more akin to how Hannah might describe someone _she_ found attractive, except it is currently doing nothing for Diana. Akko takes the rest of their order and returns to the kitchen, and as soon as the waitress leaves, Diana’s date directs his attention to her.

“You must be a regular?” He suspects.

“I come here often, yes,” Diana replies smoothly. She takes a long, drawn-out sip of her wine, staring intently at the dark grain of the wooden table.

“I... apologize,” the man says after a while, reaching for his wine glass. “That was very presumptuous of me. Clean slate?” He inquires, lifting the glass for a toast. 

“To second chances,” Diana agrees doubtfully. At least he has manners, which is more than she can say for any previous contenders. She isn’t planning on dishing out second chances any time soon, but Diana is a proper lady and refuses to cause a scene, so she settles for refilling her glass a second time.

Their waitress chooses that moment to return, balancing two platters on her tray as she emerges from the steaming kitchen.

“Here is your soup, Miss Cavendish,” Akko presents the dish to her with a careful flourish. The contents bob gently against the sides of the bowl as she sets it in front of her.

“Thank you,” Diana says graciously.

Akko places a medium-sized bowl before the man, a mound of rice topped with slices of _tonkatsu_ —breaded and deep-fried pork—garnished with chopped green onions. “Your very own katsudon, sir,” she says.

The man mutters his thanks, still smarting from earlier.

“I’ll be back in a moment to check up on you,” Akko says this mostly to Diana who bows her head in gratitude.

They eat in relative silence with the occasional back-and-forth of question-and-answer when her date dared to pause for a second and inquire about her instead of flapping on about _polo_ and _rugby_ and all other kinds of meaningless nonsense. At least he was into films, Diana supposed, but he was rather a snob about it to be honest.

“Would you two care for dessert?” Akko asks out of habit after whisking away their empty dishes.

“No,” Diana protests, perhaps a bit too quickly. “I... could not eat another bite.”

“Very well,” the man places his napkin on the table, attempting to mask his disappointment. “We are ready for the check.”

Her date did have the decency to pay, however, even though Diana would have had no trouble covering for herself. A few moments later Akko returns with the signed check and bids them a good night. After pocketing his copy of the bill, the man stands and walks over to Diana’s side, holding out a chivalrous hand to help her down from the raised booth and table.

Diana remains seated, however. “Thank you, but I need to use the restroom. You may leave if you wish, I will just call my driver.”

Akko grimaces from where she stands, clearing off the table next to them. It had not been her intention to eavesdrop, but it seemed was unavoidable. _Yikes._ If ever there was a dismissal, that was one. Crystal clear rejection, front-and-center. 

Akko shakes her head, tossing the last utensil into her tub of dirty dishes before hoisting it up and carrying it to the kitchens to be washed.

 _This is just sad,_ Akko thinks to herself. _How many awful dates can you even have in a row?_

* * *

“Akko? Is everything alright?”

She turns to see Ursula walking by with a clipboard and stack of papers—probably the schedule for the next week, if she had to guess. “Yeah, boss—everything’s great.”

Ursula hums disbelievingly, watching as Akko looks out the open arched window to a table on the opposite side of the parlor. A very pretty blonde girl sits solemnly by herself, her head resting in her hands. She looks miserable and Akko looks miserable just watching her.

“Do you know her?” Ursula asks, coming to rest beside Akko at the counter.

“No,” Akko replies absentmindedly. “Well—yes. Well, she comes here a lot, going on dates—but they all end terribly. I don’t know why she keeps going out with the same kind of guys all the time.” She sighs, gazing out at her again. “Maybe she’s lonely... I don’t know,” Akko finishes, shrugging her tub of dirty dishes onto the countertop.

“...why don’t you go talk to her?” Ursula suggests, readjusting her glasses from where they had slid down her nose.

“I—“ Akko begins. “Well, I don’t really know her all _that_ well. And besides, I’m working!” she crosses her arms at her boss. “What is this, a test?”

Ursula laughs. “No, no test. You’ve worked enough for today... why don’t you check out a little early? There’s barely anyone left in the parlor anyway. I can handle things the rest of the night.”

“Well...” Akko hesitates. She looks to Diana again, her chest clenching painfully as she sees the woman take out a napkin and dab at her face.

“Okay,” she concedes, taking her card from its slot on the wall and almost hastily swiping it through the reader. Akko looks back to her boss as she unties her apron, folding it over one arm. “Thanks, Ursula. See you tomorrow.”

“See you, Akko.”

Pausing in the doorway, Akko beams as she suddenly gets a brilliant idea. 

_What better way to cheer up an upset person than with something delicious?_ She thinks, taking one final trip into the kitchen for the night.

* * *

_“Daifuku_ for the lady?”

Diana looks up, surprised as Akko slides into the bench seat across from her with a smile and a platter of daifuku rice cakes, stuffed with strawberries and sweet red bean paste.

“Akko,” Diana says. “What is this?”

“It’s daifuku,” Akko states simply. “A common Japanese dessert, made from—“

“No, no I—,” Diana interrupts. “I know what it is. I mean, what are you doing?”

“Sitting with you.” Akko takes a piece of the sweet dessert and pops it into her mouth, chewing softly. She hums in satisfaction as the delicious flavor fills her mouth. “This is really good. You should have one!” Akko says as she pushes the platter more towards Diana’s side of the table.

Diana sighs. “I don’t know if I have the appetite.”

“...That bad, huh?” Akko‘s expression sags with concern. “Do you... wanna talk about it?”

“It wasn’t so bad, actually. Not as bad as some. I’m just...” Diana pauses. “I think I’m just tired.”

“Of going on dates?”

“Of... “ Diana hesitates, just for a moment. She looks away. “...men.”

“Oh,” Akko says dumbly.

“Yeah.”

A silence stretches—it isn’t awkward, but it can’t be called comfortable either.

“On second thought,” Diana says after a moment. “I think I will have one.” She reaches forward, lifting a piece of daifuku to her lips before taking a bite. “Mm. You’re right, these are delicious,” Diana chews slowly, savoring the sweet flavor. “I will have to order this more often—perhaps with more... _reputable_ company than I’ve been having.”

“That,” says Akko, beaming. “Sounds like a great idea! I _do_ like to prepare these.”

“You made this?” Diana inquires, taken by surprise.

“Yep!” Akko states proudly. “I might only be a server, but I know how to cook almost everything on this menu! I’ve been here a long time, and I’ve had to cook a bit in the past... But I prefer serving to staying cooped up in the kitchen all night. Euch!” She grimaces, remembering how hot it had been in the kitchens when she’d cooked before.

“I’m impressed,” Diana smiles, reaching for another. “However, you shouldn’t let me order these too often, lest I ruin my figure,” she says teasingly.

“I bet you could eat ten orders of rice cakes and still look amazing,” Akko says, before she can stop herself. Immediately her face begins steaming, just like the platter of hot food on the arm of another server as he strides by their table, and she wonders just what had possessed her to lose all semblance of control over her mouth.

Diana giggles—actually giggles, despite herself. From anyone else the compliment would have fallen on deaf ears. But from Akko, somehow she knew it to be genuine.

“Well, in that case, I think I’ll have another,” Diana smiles.

Akko nods with enthusiasm, “Please do!”

* * *

It’s another cloudless night, and the same gig as ever.

Except, this time, Diana immediately notices the clean, handsome face that waltzes in through the front door of the parlor.

“Good evening, Diana,” Andrews says as he slides confidently into the booth opposite her.

Diana scowls. “Andrew,” she greets, her voice monotone.

“Ah, you wound me, Diana,” he dramatically places a hand over his left breast, feigning deep injury. “Is that any way to greet your childhood friend?”

“I don’t recall you ever attempting to keep contact after all these years,” she says cooly, narrowing her eyes. “Tell me, how is your father doing these days?”

Andrew waves the jab away. “I’m not here to talk about that useless sod.” 

“Then why _are_ you here?” Diana challenges. “I know it can’t possibly be because you wish to court me…”

“I came to see how my lovely Diana was doing,” he says with faux pleasantry. “And not too well by the looks of it.”

Diana sighs. “...do I truly appear that miserable?”

“Most definitely.”

“I… apologize, for my attitude this evening,” Diana leans back in her seat. “Daryl has been non-stop on my case about this—”

“Not _that_ witch, still?” Andrew groans, though Diana is grateful for the interruption. She doesn’t wish to speak of Daryl any longer. “When will she learn to get her own life and stop meddling in the lives of others?”

“We may never see the day."

“God forbid," Andrew quips.

“Wine for you, Miss Cavendish?” Akko inquires sweetly when she returns, carting Andrew's menu. Diana knows it like the back of her hand, so Akko is aware by now that she won’t care for one herself.

Diana tries, but can’t hide the subtle smile that inches its way onto her face. “Just water tonight, I’m afraid.”

Akko nods, scribbling on her pad. “Water… And for you, sir?”

“Water as well for me, thank you,” Andrew says smoothly, tossing her a wink.

Akko blushes despite herself, shooting Diana a scandalized look. Diana bites down on her lips to prevent herself from snickering—poor Akko doesn’t even know Andrew is only playing with her, being his usual insufferably charming self.

Andrew’s gaze flits between the two of them curiously as Akko leaves to retrieve their orders.

“Let me guess…” he drawls, sweeping his eyes over the parlor, observing the dark brick interior, low lighting, and fancy-looking tables and chairs. “This is where you’ve chosen to endure such torture? What number am I, I wonder…”

“I haven’t been counting,” Diana huffs. “I bargained that if I am to _endure such torture,_ as you so put it, that at least it should be my choice of dining. And I chose here.”

Akko decides on that moment to return, striding up to their table with drinks in hand.

“Your water, sir,” Akko greets, placing the glass firmly on its coaster. “Diana,” she smiles, also setting her drink gracefully in front of her.

Andrew’s eyebrows nearly shoot into his hairline as he mouths _‘Diana’?_ at her with a smirk.

Diana ignores him, opting for her glass of water to hide her subtle blush.

“Your waitress seems… nice,” Andrew comments after Akko leaves. “Cute, too.”

Something behind Diana’s eyes hardens, even though she knows Andrew is only trying to agitate her into spilling her heart out. Despite their distance, he has always known just what buttons to press to get her talking.

“She is,” Diana agrees, refusing to let him have the upper hand. “Nice,” she clarifies.

“Cute, too, surely?” he presses, despite how Diana bristles at his insistence. “Just look at her, running around in that adorable little apron… I always knew you liked brunettes. And her nose, just like a rabbit—”

“What do you want, Andrew?” Diana demands. Behind her eyes, a fire dances in a fury of flames.

Andrew grins. Finally, they were getting somewhere.

“Oh, nothing,” he shrugs. “Just wondering when you’re going to stop playing along with auntie Daryl’s games and actually start doing something for yourself.”

Diana’s voice is severe when she speaks, wishing he would just let it go. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ah, but I know _you,_ Diana,” Andrew says, leaning forward on the table. “You might like to pretend that I don’t, but I do.”

“You can’t possibly know everything.”

“Maybe not,” Andrew agrees. “But I know enough. Enough to see that you clearly don’t like me... not when you’ve been staring at her the entire night.” He glances over to Akko, who is currently serving an elderly couple seated at a corner table, her face lighting up with a brilliant smile as she jots down their order in her little penguin-shaped notepad.

Diana scowls at her glass of water, staring holes in the condensation, neither confirming nor denying Andrew’s suspicions.

“Why don’t you do something about it?”

Diana’s eyes snap to his. “You know why,” she says stiffly. 

“No,” Andrew admits. “I really _don’t_ understand why you keep letting your aunt walk all over you like this.”

 _“Letting_ her—”

“You practically own the place, Diana,” he says. “Why? And don’t tell me it’s because of your reputation...”

“It might have… _begun_ that way,” Diana relents. “But, if I don’t do this... if I don’t continue the Cavendish name, what will my mother—”

“She would want you to be _happy,”_ Andrew states simply. “I don’t remember Bernadette as well as you might... but I do remember she always put you first. She wouldn’t want you to be forced into a life you don’t want.”

“But, her legacy...”

“Is _you,_ Diana.”

Diana looks up, shocked. “What?”

Leaning back, Andrew’s smug expression shifts as he looks at her in earnest, in a way no one has in a very long time—like he really sees her, right down to her core.

 _“You_ are her legacy, Diana. You, and your life, and what you choose to do with it. Not how many children you have... or whether or not you marry a man. It’s just you—and what you decide to leave behind.”

The din of the restaurant washes over them as they fall into a tense silence, Diana not quite knowing how to respond to such rare honesty from Andrew. He really has changed, in some ways, from the hot-tempered boy she once knew in her youth. She supposes, in a sense, they are much the same—both with overbearing parental figures, and wealth beyond measure. It is difficult to find someone with earnest intentions, in the lives they both lead.

Eventually, Akko comes back to place their orders, returning shortly with the hot platters of shrimp (for Andrew) and sushi, for Diana.

“...Why are you telling me all of this?” Diana finally speaks, when Andrew’s plate of shrimp is half-eaten. Hers is barely touched, and her drink sits forgotten in a puddle of condensation. “Didn’t you agree to come tonight?”

“I only agreed so I could try and talk some sense into you...” Andrew says, popping a shrimp piece into his mouth. “I prefer my dates to actually like me. And, believe it or not...” He smirks, leaning forward. “I don’t really like you, either, Diana. Not in that way.”

Diana sees a flicker in her peripheral vision as Akko emerges from the kitchen once more. She notices her hair is tied neatly into a braided bun at the nape of her neck, and her bangs are slightly damp from being in the steamy kitchen.

Her gaze is drawn to Akko’s rosy cheeks, also probably from the heat of the oven and stoves. She really is cute, but Diana refuses to acknowledge so in front of Andrew. Her eyes soften, though, as they follow Akko, moving from table to table, her lips always pulled into the same genuine smile with each customer.

“You really like her, don’t you?” Andrew observes.

“She’s kind to me,” Diana says, tired of fighting, and her voice is gentler than she ever remembers it being. “And when she talks to me... I don’t feel like Diana Cavendish—heir to the Cavendish legacy. I feel like...”

She hesitates, noticing how foreign it feels to speak so openly and honestly about her emotions.

“Diana,” she breathes, giving into a slow, gentle smile. “Just... Diana.”

On the other side of the booth, Andrew looks pleased. “And is that such a horrible thing?”

“No,” Diana admits. “Quite the opposite, actually… though I’m unsure what to make of it.”

“Christ, Diana,” Andrew mutters. “Why must everything be so complex with you?”

“Because nothing is ever so _simple_ as you make it out to be, Andrew,” Diana frowns.

“Actually, Diana, sometimes it _is.”_

Diana’s scowl morphs into uncertainty. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because,” he leans forward in his seat, lowering his voice. “Whenever you’re not looking at her, she’s looking at you.”

* * *

When the next Tuesday rolls around, Diana finds herself again sitting in the same booth. As usual, Akko greets her and takes her drink order. But she isn't aware Diana is there of her own volition this time. 

Surprisingly, her discussion with Daryl had lasted a shorter time than Diana imagined it would. She supposed her aunt was also tired of scouring the aristocratic social pools for a suitable match after so many failed attempts… Now, Diana is free to do as she chooses. And the repercussions are hers to take, and hers only.

The feeling brings a brief but powerful surge of pride into her chest.

“A no-show tonight, huh?” Akko’s voice pipes up as she comes to check on her again.

“Not... exactly. It’s just me tonight,” Diana says. Below the table, her hands twist anxiously at the napkin in her lap. “Me...” She meets Akko’s eyes hesitantly. “And you. If you’d like.”

Akko’s eyes go wide as saucers, and she points to herself. “M-Me...?”

Diana nods demurely.

“W—Wh, uh, well. Well!” Akko sputters. “Um, wow. I... _I need to go talk to my boss I’ll be right back!”_

As Akko speeds back into the kitchen, Diana wonders briefly if she’s made the right decision... It’s as if she expects to be troubled, though all she can feel is quiet peace. Her mind is calm, her body soft and relaxed—a stark contrast to the high-strung energy she’s been on the past few months. It’s… different. Nice.

Moments later, when Diana is only just beginning to think that she has left for good, Akko returns, her apron gone and wearing a pair of jeans instead of the business casual slacks that were required of her uniform. She still has the same black button-down shirt, though the name tag has been removed.

“Um…” Akko blushes before her. “So, I have the rest of the night off.”

Diana clears her throat. “Well, in that case…” Standing from the booth, she extends a hand towards Akko. “Would you care to leave the premises?”

Akko breathes out a laugh, still not quite sure what’s happening and if it’s real or not. "Is that your verbose way of asking me if I want to get out of here?"

"Perhaps," Diana smiles, and honestly, it's the prettiest smile Akko has ever seen.

“Come on, let’s go,” she says with a grin, tugging Diana towards the entrance.

She isn’t sure where they’re going, but Diana finds that really, she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care what it might look like—billionaire Diana Cavendish, gallivanting around the town with some unknown girl… Somewhere, in the midst of grinning like a fool at some silly thing Akko has said, Diana finds that she doesn’t care about a lot of things anymore.

It’s awkward at first, which is expected—but soon they are laughing again, tossing jabs and exchanging stories just like before. Akko smiles at her, often—and each time Diana takes note of every detail, so she won’t ever forget what this moment feels like.

For the first time in years, Diana feels like she is taking the first step into creating her very own story—one that ends with her living a life where she can be freely herself, and one she knows her mother would certainly be proud of.

A legacy of her own making.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!
> 
> tbh i don't rly see daryl as a villain too often, but as someone who cares for her sister's life and what she accomplished. she just has... an odd way of showing it, and chooses things that may not be the best course of action. also im so tired!!! of andrew being the bad guy!! hes just a smug bastard... and i love him. let the bitter-sibling-esque friendship commence, i say!


End file.
